


place your bets

by howardlink



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, because i cannot for the life of me understand poker so?? i changed it based on interpretation, but i basically changed the themes the way i see fit, please dont hurt me, this is for poker pair week 2k16
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-22 13:04:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8286823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howardlink/pseuds/howardlink
Summary: regarding the relationship of tyki mikk and allen walker. poker pair week 2k16.





	1. bluff

**Author's Note:**

> aaaahahaha.....basically i changed the themes on interpretation because i cannot seem to understand poker terms?? the button one confused me the most, how the fuck do i work this into a fic--
> 
> and it's all modern au!!!!!!!!
> 
> anyway, i love poker pair almost as much as i love yullen, so if you follow my office au yullen fic this is why i didnt update this week!! poker pair needs love from me too....even if this is half-assed compared to the amount of time i put into my stupid yullen fic oK
> 
> wwwhhh i hope you can enjoy this!

Allen stilled, silver eyes widening in disbelief as he watched the man in front of him. He was tall; tanned skin, a beauty mark under his eye and long, curled waves of dark hair tied into a ponytail, as Allen noted when the man raised a hand to swipe backwards at a sharp kink in his fringe.

“I-I’m sorry?” Allen said politely as he fiddled with his sleeve.

“Your number. I want it,” the man said, octave raising in the last utterance like the mark of a musician’s notes. 

Allen swallowed, chuckling nervously. To put it simply, he didn't trust the guy. Under any other circumstance he may have, because at this point in time who would?

Say if it were, hypothetically, a sunny afternoon and Allen Walker was there right behind the counter of that dingy convenience store on the corner of the road, he might have giggled in allure at the man’s charm. _‘Yes,’_ he’d reply assuredly, _‘I’d love to give you my number. Text me as soon as you can.’_ Maybe Allen would give him a free coupon for an ice slush, or drop three dollars off his next purchase over fifteen dollars or whatever. They'd text or call, and that would be that.

_‘But,’_ Allen Walker thought apprehensively as he stared up at the incredulous _telephone pole_ of a man in front of him, _‘this isn’t a sunny afternoon.’_ Smoke and mirrors weren't Allen’s thing, ironically enough for someone so enamoured by clowns. His quixotic daydreams were negligible in his life, and he seemed to bring unfortunate circumstances to everyone he came into contact with. _Especially_ himself. Allen found himself wishing he could just snap his fingers and poof, the man would be gone, and he would be back to reading a brand new copy of _Equestrians Monthly_ that had just come in and slacking off on his night shift. 

The thing was, Allen didn't even _like_ horses that much. There were just so few things to do at half-one in the morning at the crappy convenience store, and he frowned at the choice of things to do. His co-worker, Kanda, had left him with the worst jobs in the store, namely, and he could hear Kanda’s voice in his head as he recalled this, to _‘restock the magazines and the soup aisle,’_ (he remembered Kanda turning around with a swish of his long, dark ponytail, mouth curled askew) _‘and you can unpack the new arrivals from the next room over. But most importantly, do your fucking job and watch over the damn store. If I come in tomorrow morning and find a dead beansprout on the floor and the cash register empty I will fucking find you in the next life, try me.’_ Yes, Allen could clearly recall Kanda’s small smirk at Allen’s dismay as he slung on his jacket and headed out the door without looking back.

Sheepishly, Allen eyed the man and then halted his ceaseless fake laugh. Which was a bit awkward really, because how was someone supposed to react to a short, white-haired kid with an awfully red scar on the left side of his face staring into their face aimlessly and laughing? 

“Ah. You see, I don't own a phone.” A lie, really. Allen did have a phone, it was nothing fancy but so that his legal guardian, Cross, could get ahold of him. His controlling, asshole of a guardian called him no matter the time nor place, and Allen stifled a cringe when he remembered the times Cross had called him during lectures and Allen had stupidly left him on speaker. He’d never live down the _‘Idiot kid! ‘Cause of you, my lay left this morning because she thought kids were a turn-off!’_ So yes, Cross seemed to have the worst timing with calls.

...Such as right now, Allen visibly cringes as he heard the shrill blue piano of his phone ringtone. The man’s eyebrows widen as he looks down at Allen, head at a small tilt as he sussed him out.

“Hmm? What's that?”

Allen reddened with shame. “T-That’s not mine—” he said as he pulled out his phone and turned it off. “I was just holding it,” he swallowed. “For a friend. That's probably him coming now, I should go back to work—”

“I’m calling a bluff, you seemed very well-acquitted with it.” The man leaned on the counter and came face to face with poor, little Allen. 

“It’s not my—” he pushed his hair out of his face, “—my phone. Not mine.”

“Ah, well that's a shame. But I’ve always been one for old school methods, we could send each other notes via pigeon. I have a pigeon,” the man said as he fingered the packet of cool ranch Doritos he was in the middle of purchasing.

“I, uh, don't have a pigeon.”

The man smiled wickedly. “My dear, _nobody_ actually has a pigeon. That's why we steal them off the streets.”

In disbelief, Allen broke eye contact and quickly scanned the Doritos. He tapped it into the cash register, peering intently at the black numbers on the display if only to excuse himself from making conversation with the dubious man. “That's a dollar and twenty cents, please, sir.”

The man reached into his pocket and moved his hand around with the nuance of the coins jingling. He pulled out a pile of change and poured it into Allen’s outstretched hand. “Count that for me,” he said as he looked down to Allen’s left side, spotting his name tag, “beautiful little Allen.”

Allen shivered as he counted out the change, putting it into the register and placing the remaining coins on top of the folded receipt. “What's your name? It's only fair,” he said.

“Ah,” the man said, “you may call me Tyki. I’m Portuguese.”

“There's no letter K in the Portuguese alphabet,” Allen said slowly.

“And there's no natural hair colour such as white. But you look stunning anyway,” Tyki smirked as he eyed Allen.

Allen frowned at the man’s obvious advances. “It's natural,” he said, “and I’m a minor.” Which was one truth, one lie. He was actually nineteen.

_“Au contraire,_ little one, I’ve seen you around before. You go to the local university right?”

“...I went there t-to meet my friend.”

“I’m calling you out on your bluff, boy.” 

Startled, Allen grasped the bag of Doritos and shoved it into a carrier bag a little too forcefully. “I’m sorry, I just don't take well to strangers hitting on me in the middle of the night. This is the kind of thing my parents warned me about.” Which, again, was only a half truth since Allen technically didn't have any parents and Cross didn't really give him any paternal advice other than _‘don’t get taken advantage of, pretty little fuckers like you get preyed upon all the time.’_

“Of course,” Tyki nodded in understanding, straightening up from the counter, “I can see the _foreboding_ in your eyes at the sight of a man waltzing in at one in the morning only to buy a single bag of chips. Which _is_ a little ominous, actually. Forgive me, Allen.” And this shocked Allen a little, because _holy shit was Tyki actually a good guy?_

Allen digressed, but his heart begged to differ. It ached with the way he mistreated Tyki, misjudged his character and didn't take kindly to him like he had so sworn he would do to others. And besides; _Tyki was hot._ At least if Allen wasn't feeling anything in a moral sense, Tyki was easy on the eyes.

Tyki pivoted on the tips of his soles and took one step out before he was caught by his wrist. Curiously, he looked over his shoulder at the teenager with white hair, pallid face hued pink as he looked downwards in shame. 

“I-I—” he breathed in heavily, “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have misjudged you, and I—” Allen fumbled for a pen and scribbled his digits down onto the back of the receipt. 

“Boy, please, don't force yourself. I don't mean to come on too strongly,” Tyki reassured as he stepped back and tried to ease his arm from the cashier’s grip. 

“But I mean…” Allen trailed off slowly. “I’d love to go out sometime. I’m free on most evenings except today, and on Sunday morning, and I have no work on Saturdays.

Tyki perked up, canines sharp enough to evoke Allen’s sense of worriment. “Has my charm alluded you, boy?”

And Allen rolled his eyes, corners of his lips tugging upwards a little. “No,” he said bluntly, “but your face has. Have a nice night, Tyki.” Allen sat back in his seat and pulled up his issue of _Equestrians Monthly._

“I’ll text you, beautiful,” and he waved his slender, tan fingers and headed out the door. 

Allen was immediately bored, lacking in company as he half-heartedly stared down at race horses and foals, eyes blank with an unimpressed demeanour at _Lucy-May Willows’ seventeenth gold medal_ because Lucy-May was just a spoiled little rich girl. Lucy-May probably didn't even train her own horses. 

And Lucy-May probably didn't have to work in a drab convenience store and meet incredibly attractive Portuguese men at half-one in the morning.


	2. value

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> value; aka tyki only agrees to bets he knows he can win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and this one is vv short, and actually a lot of these are probs gonna be short, i think the only long ones are the first one (which isnt even that long) and tilt, the sex one....whoOPS spoilers...
> 
> pls enjoy. i tried to make it a lil bit sexy but i am as virgin as they come, my friends

“What do you say?” Allen smiles sweetly in light of the winning delusions set within his sights. He presses his finger along the stack of bills on the table satisfyingly.

It's a bet, boy; a bet.” And Tyki stepped up at that, finger reaching forward to stroke along Allen’s jaw. He edged closer along the table, hand hooking under Allen’s chin as he ran a rough thumb over the teenager’s plump bottom lip.

And then Tyki Mikk pressed his lips against Allen’s, slightly rough in texture as he nudged along the boy’s own; soft, as expected. He flicks an eye open, stares at the disbelieving faces of Kanda, Lavi, Lenalee. _Lenalee,_ whose eyes are wide in an almost hilarious disposition because of the antics of her seemingly _pure-hearted_ friend. 

Kanda huffs, and he lowered his eyes after a while in minute respect or shame, Tyki couldn't care which one because _did the boy really make that sound?_

And by now, Allen had come around the table, seated fully in Tyki’s lap as he curled his hands around the older man’s neck, fingers digging into dark skin and a stiff shirt collar.

Allen moaned into the kiss, breathless and light-headed and _oh my God, what did he just do with his tongue,_ hard shoe-tips digging bruises into Tyki’s thighs as he ground down slowly. He tucked his hand into Tyki’s long, dark and curly ponytail and _pulled,_ small teeth digging into the curve of his bottom lip. 

The older man’s hands wander and caress, fingers dropping trails onto Allen’s creamy skin, a hand tracing along the inside of his waistband and ghosting indentations of nail presses into his skin. The other hand sat comfortably in the dip of Allen’s waist, prominent and slender in the curve of his fingers.

But then Allen pulls back, breaths coming quick as he tightened his knees around Tyki’s waist. He leans his forehead on the man’s shoulder and _breathes,_ hands grasping at Tyki’s kinked ponytail to force a sense of reality into his fingertips.

“I-I—” he pants, “—don't suppose you’ll go for a, ah, a _rematch?”_ He lifted his head off Tyki’s shoulder and stares up at him, venomous yellow catching his sharp grey eyes.

Tyki tutted, fingers patting at Allen’s skin from beneath his shirt in reprimand. “No good, boy,” he said. “We had a bet.”

Allen pouted, looking around the room at his friends who couldn't meet his gaze. “That's not fair, right? Please force him into a rematch.”

“Rules are rules, dumbass,” Kanda spat.

“Voyeur,” Allen muttered. 

“Ah, but rules are rules, boy. Allen. Pay up,” Tyki smirked as the stack of bills was thrown at him by the scowling teenager.

“I should’ve known you're too seedy for me to trust,” he said half to himself.

“But you're inexperienced, aren't you? Yet you wanted to have a bet to see who would break the kiss to breathe first. Besides,” Tyki grinned wolfishly, taking pleasure in the audible gulp Allen let out, “I only agree to bets I _know_ I can win."

And Allen scoffed, placing a foot on the floor and swinging off Tyki’s lap. 

“Go home, Tyki,” he said. “I don't want Cross to come back before you can leave, unless you want to see the inside of my closet again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really like imagining poker pair making out and getting steamy in allen's room and then cross comes home and allen just full on shOVES tyki into the closet for like the entire night.
> 
> and cross finds out anyway, chases tyki out of the apartment, throws cushions from the sofa at him
> 
> allen just loves his boyfriend anyway


	3. kicker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kicker; tyki and allen race against the clock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont even know where the idea for this one came from...its such a mess
> 
> ahahaaaaaaaa whatever, my friends,

Allen Walker stumbles; he nearly _trips,_ for God’s sake but he doesn't care because he has to make it to class before _that guy_ turns up. Namely Tyki Mikk, the ridiculously handsome assistant who sat at the back and observed the class smugly. 

It wasn't like Allen Walker was _trying_ to start something with the guy, the guy was just such an incredible and wholesome prick he sort of drew Allen in like a magnet. Poor, sweet Allen who wanted to see the good in people was thrown for a loop trying to understand the over-six foot, dark-haired and tanned enigma of Portuguese origin. He was a huge guy, and possibly ten years (give or take, but Allen didn't really care) older than him, but also strikingly addictive in his passive and smug ambiguity. 

Said man had also told Allen that he would give him a bag of candy if he could make it to class before him, as Allen so perfectly remembered as he laced through crowds of people, bag flying out behind him as he mumbled his share of curt sorry phrases. 

He jumped onto the heavy, wooden doors, fingers latching onto the golden handle as he pushed his weight into it and burst into the hall. 

_“Who’s here first?!”_ He called out, bending over and placing his hands on his knees, fingers grasping into his jeans as he heaved deep breaths of oxygen into his lungs. 

“Oh Allen,” Lavi said, rubbing the boy’s back, “I have no idea.”

Allen looked up in perplexity before scanning the room with his eyes, and sure enough, Tyki Mikk stood at the double doors on the other side of the hall, just as breathless as he tucked his blazer over his forearm. Tyki looked up, seemingly searching for Allen before meeting his eyes and raising his free hand in a subdued wave.

“T-that’s— _no!”_ He wailed, collapsing into a seat next to Kanda. “But I came first, right?” 

Lavi shook his head. “I think you came at the same time.”

“I compromised _so many_ things! I didn't even wash my face! So I came first, right? We can check the CCTV for God’s sake, I _know_ I made it first!”

Kanda growled, pulling on a strand of Allen’s white hair. “You're such a damn glutton, why’re you getting so distressed over a bag of fucking candy?”

Allen huffed. “It's not just the candy—my pride is on the line!”

“Allen,” Lavi said reassuringly, “your pride hasn't been lost if you both came at the same time.”

“B-but you're not getting it! If I don't come first, I get no candy or pride! If I beat him, I can get candy _and_ pride! But if I tie with him, I get—”

_“No candy?_ So you really are just a glutton,” a smooth voice interrupted. “Would you let me feed it to you if I gave it to you anyway?”

Allen reddened at the implication, turning in his seat to face Tyki. “N-no! I am not falling for this,” he said. “There has to be a way around this.”

Tyki pulled a coin from his pocket, placing it on the desk in front of Kanda and Allen. “You there, Mr Angst-and-Teenage-Dilemmas,” he called out.

“I’m fucking twenty-three years old, ass bag,” Kanda hissed.

“Flip the coin. What's your call, boy?” Tyki smiled at Allen as he leaned into the desk, face inches from his.

“Uh, heads?”

Kanda shrugged and flipped the coin, watching it somersault through the air quickly. He caught it and placed it onto the back of his hand, lifting his fingers from the coin.

“...It’s tails.”

Allen stormed out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> allen probs got that bag of candy in the end anyway.


	4. button

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> button; something domestic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me apologise in advance bc i was gonna post all of these last weekend, but i got so busy and i cRI it sucked...but i got to write out smth a little sexy so i guess it was good practice?? 
> 
> hahahaha the prompts called button, i just thought of shirt buttons being undone and bam implied sexual content
> 
> this is also longer than the last twooo

The sound of soft voices mingling together was heard through the door of the apartment, rising in volume as the two came closer to the door. It swung on its hinges, and the taller of the duo held the door open for his smaller lover to enter. 

“I’m stuffed,” Allen sighed dreamily as he hopped over the one squeaky floorboard and slumped into the grey cushioned sofa. “I think I ate twice my usual amount.”

Tyki shook his head, smiling. “At least you didn't have to pay for it all, boy.”

“As if I made you pay anyway,” Allen rolled his eyes, “I didn't want you to. Can you get me some ice cream?”

“You’re _still_ hungry?” Tyki asked incredulously, walking over to their small kitchen. It wasn’t big; their entire apartment wasn't, especially because Allen was still a student working two jobs and Tyki worked in an antiques shop. He assessed the weird stain in the corner of the ceiling and dampening window frames, mind lingering on the squeaky floorboard at the front door and realised _fuck, there’s a lot of things to fix up in here_. They had bought the place on a whim, Allen thinking _‘it’s close to the university’_ and Tyki simply wanting to take the next step in their relationship. 

There were a lot of doubts about their relationship; mainly Tyki being quite a lot older than Allen but he’d been reassured by the younger boy that it didn't matter, and he loved him regardless. He opened the door of their tiny freezer and pulled out a tub of ice cream, taking a spoon from one of the kitchen drawers knowing _some_ ice cream meant at least one entire tub.

“Are you okay with vanilla?” Tyki called from the kitchen.

“If it’s ice cream, I’ll eat it,” Allen replied from his place on the sofa. Swiftly, Tyki had made it back into the small living space and sat next to Allen, handing him the spoon and tub. 

He had just eased the cushion behind his back upwards a touch when Allen was already a quarter done, moaning in delight. “This is so good,” he cried, pulling the spoon from his lips, “Tyki, eat it.” Allen dug out a heaped spoonful of ice cream and jammed it into Tyki’s mouth, smiling unsympathetically. 

_“Wh—,”_ he swallowed quickly, “why did you do that? You'd dare to choke me?” 

Allen hummed. “Yeah.”

Aghast, Tyki’s frown deepens as his eyebrows drew together, tongue slipping out to lick away the remnants of Allen’s ice cold, subdued and sweet attack. “Wouldn't you miss me?”

“Nope,” Allen replied as he continued to spoon ice cream into his mouth, cheeks full like a hamster gorging itself on feed, “I would only miss your wallet.”

“It's not like there's much in it,” Tyki said desperately, sighing. “Didn't you say earlier that you didn't want me to pay for dinner anyway?”

The younger boy said nothing.

“You're killing me here.” Tyki hung his head. 

“Be quiet, this is my show,” Allen whispered as he put up the volume.

_‘—in and around the city,’_ the television blared, _‘and what do you think, Mr Campbell?’_ On the television, a man sitting at the cabinet sat back in his seat with a boisterous laugh. _‘Next thing I know, you'll tell me that I massacred my entire family.’_

Allen laughed quietly. “Could you imagine?”

Tyki said nothing.

_“Tyki,”_ he tried, “hey, Tyki?”

Said man turned away quietly, picking at the peeling fibres of their grey scale sofa with the mismatched cushions. They _really_ needed to replace this thing; the filthy sofa had sat in a storage unit for eighteen months before Sheril had offered it to them as a (and here, Sheril had his arms wide open and was smiling widely with Road clinging to his shoulder) _housewarming gift._ God forbid Sheril and his dodgy family consisting of his actual _Annabelle_ doll daughter and intelligent son who sleeps all day _(but won't stop reading Tyki's mind)_ move house because Tyki was going to spit into his bare hands for a welcoming gift.

“Tyki…” Allen warned, “if you keep ignoring me I’ll make you sleep on this ugly sofa tonight.”

He leaned closer, and Tyki caught him by surprise when he kissed him lightly on the lips.

“Wha—why did you do that?” Allen asked, pink in the face.

“You,” he pushes forward and pressed against Allen gently, “were lying again.”

“And?”

“I’m gonna kiss you.” And he did, ever the man of his word. It was soft, light and gentle like sunlight on an early spring day, a connoisseur of the arts dipping a brush into watercolour—oil— _acrylic._

Content, Allen sighs into the kiss and pulls his hands around the browned curve of Tyki’s neck, fingers resonating in the small peak of his pulse. He presses close, cracked red fingers grasping into the creased blue fabric of Tyki’s button-up. 

And Tyki reciprocates, eager, fingers erratic in their paths as they stumble down the crisp white of Allen’s t-shirt and eventually climb the rungs of his ribs. Poised perfectly, he slides his fingers down Allen’s chest, mouth quirked in satisfaction at the small moans and whimpers elicited into the pink of his mouth from his young lover. 

“Wha— _ah,_ are you doing?” Allen whimpered out as he salvaged the dropped ice cream carton from the dip of the sofa. “My ice cream.”

“This’ll be much more delectable than your ice cream,” Tyki whispered as he pulled the carton from Allen’s hand and placed it on the table, moving to turn off the television in the process. “Watch me.”

So he does, _he does,_ Allen regards well as he watches Tyki slip the shirt up and pull it over Allen’s head. He runs his lips down the perfect pale of his skin, smirking at the feel of fingers in his dark curls, and Allen _tugs._

“Wait,” Allen said helplessly, “we’re on the sofa,” he tries to back up. 

“And?” Tyki said, muffled through the creamy skin of his small boyfriend.

“This can't be— _ah,”_ he gasped as he felt long fingers wind into the inside of his waistband as Tyki pulls down his trousers. “T-Tyki! We—”

“It's not like we haven't done it on here before,” Tyki reasoned as he kneaded a knuckle into Allen’s crotch, eyes widening in mirth at Allen’s cries.

“But that's the thing! My back always hurts in the morning, even more than my ass.”

“I guess we’ll take it extra slow, then.” He continued his endeavour with precise movements, fingers splayed and wrist flicking. Allen whimpered into the curve of his own elbow, cheeks red.

“Y-you, _ah, oh my G-God,_ Tyki you _bastard,”_ Allen cried into his arm, “it's never slow with you.”

“Relax, Mr Mikk has _got this.”_ And Tyki kisses him full on the mouth, tongue darting in and licking the length of Allen’s own as he forces the boy’s moans and pants down his own throat. Hastily, he pulled Allen’s knees around his waist and leans in, throwing his trousers to the floor.

He smirks like a _fucking wolf,_ Allen thinks, pressing his finger into Tyki’s belt buckle and undoing it, pulling down his trousers. The elder man kicked them off, hands splayed on the sofa beside Allen’s ears like a stupid (and cheap) Portuguese picture frame. He pulled up a hand and traced the raised plastic rim of the man’s white shirt buttons, looking up into his lustful gaze. 

The fucker _grinned._

Allen gave up. “Where's the lube?”

“I thought you'd never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> allen got (intake of breath) fuuuuucked
> 
> next chapter is tilt; aka the wild sex one bc the prompt basically asks for it HAHA im not good at writing sex and i have only written pwp like once before (its yullen and i will post it one day,,,,) so this will be good to improve my writing skills


	5. tilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tilt; unwavering pleasure and animosity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaaaaa my god i have only written sex once before and it was yullen but it was slow, bc it was allens first time and ughghh OH MY GOSH i havent written wild sex before so this was just....many firsts...thanks to this chapter the ratings gonna go up to mature lol fuck
> 
> if my mother finds this im screwed :^)
> 
> this prompt calls for sex though?? and i dont think tyki and allen would ever take it slow...tyki is always ready to perform his signature anal wrecking and he just seems like a guy who would want to be so rough with his partner, im thinking poker pair is like sweaty skin, bruises everywhere, hoarse gasping and moans and messy hair...as for my lil baby allen....i just really want a big man to tear his ass apart, kanda or tyki i dont even care
> 
> and with allen he looks like a fuckin delicate fairy and i feel like he would want to be punched a bit...he wants to be treated roughly in bed u know he enjoys it he aint about that vanilla lifestyle
> 
> weeeeps idk fam enjoy, theres notes at the end u should probs read

His thighs tremble with sensitivity after each thrust, hips jolting in stimulation as he pushes his lower body _up_ with each meeting. Fingers clamber up the wetness of his partner’s tanned forehead, stroking along the blackened kinks of his curly hair, slick with sweat. 

They take their cues; fingers clench faster, fucking down _harder_ in desperation as he curls his slender fingers into tainted sheets. Blackened with lust, pink with intimacy as he presses that lithe body down into the mattress, bed rocking a pleasurable rhythm as the boy cries and moans after each thrust.

He sees white; damp, white tendrils of matted hair cloud his sights as a nose is pressed into his clavicle. He could almost smirk; the subjugation of the boy’s carnal lust and heated desire were poignant in the indentation of teeth in his shoulder, his chest, his _jaw, his neck—_

And he gasps into the boy’s hair as he feels him ride up into each thrust, poised ankles digging deep into the curve of his lower back with each press of his lower half. He goes fast; he is pleasure, pleasure incarnate as he rains bruises down the expanses of pale skin on the boy’s thighs, fingers digging painful bruises in all its animosity. 

It's _reckless,_ it's messy and it milks Tyki's cock to the core. 

With what he gives, the boy receives, and _oh, does he._ He receives the aching pain in the ministrations of Tyki’s hands, pushing his legs further and further into his own chest in an unmatched test of his flexibility. He passes; flying colours are unparalleled in essence as he continues to pull himself up into Tyki when their lower halves meet. But Tyki rocks harder, pushing his little lover to the limit with each press going deeper, each thrust going further as he pounds his frustration into bona fide sexual drive in tandem with the rising octaves of the musician’s echoing song. 

It's a piercing song; unmasked cries of sin, of arts, of pleasure and he's lost in it, trimmed nails leaving scratches of deep red in his browned flesh, ribbons of torn skin coming in fives on each side with the searing press of each finger. He pushes the boy harder, thrusts messier with the clinging of dirty fingernails in the pallor of his dainty thighs, clenched in frustration and pure agonising desire to be forced into _harder_ and pushed _further_ and sinking _deeper, deeper_ down onto that slick cock. 

Tyki would nearly tut at the dishevelled and sticky state of the boy, the shameful quelling of angry sexual pleasure and wanton lust prominent in the wane of his silver eyes and perfectly pouted lips; Tyki just wants to devour him completely. To assimilate his entire being, consume the salty sheen of heavy sweat on the boy’s pallid complexion, bite bruises akin to a draconian feast into the curve of his neck and shoulder, make him _cry_ and _scream_ and _beg_ until his cries are rendered into ashes.

He presses fire into the boy’s limbs as his movements become languid, drinking in each other's touch as the boy's core coils in absolute pressure and he tightens around Tyki’s cock. Tyki nearly meets his release right there, eyebrows drawing into complication as he digs his fingers deeper into the boy’s flesh to quell his carnal instinct and let the boy release first. He mewls in overstimulation, fingers cursing the skin of Tyki’s back with torn skin and bruises as he clenches his thighs tightly around the elder man’s torso, heels grinding into his tense flesh.

And then Allen meets his release.

His eyes flash hot and white and senseless and he screams in finality, releasing onto the expanse of tanned flesh of Tyki’s stomach. His legs tremble as he unhooked them from Tyki’s torso, knees quivering and teeth biting into his lip with refrain as Tyki continues to thrust in pure triumph. He elicits a breathy grown when he comes, in four thrusts more when Allen nearly collapsed as he tries to hold out until Tyki climaxes.

And his teeth dig into the boy’s lower lip when he bends down to kiss him, languidly pulling his cock out of the boy while he whimpers in his sticky and full strife of being filled with his lover’s semen. White-hued liquid slip down his thighs and out of his pink hole, and Tyki sympathetically pulls up the sheets and cleans some of it off, wiping his own abdomen out of obligation.

Fingers weakly grasp his shoulder as Allen pulls his head onto Tyki’s chest.

Allen whines, “I-I’m gonna pass out.” And then he's out, soft snores melting into the hardness of Tyki’s pectoral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao imagine if they find this in my files when i die and theyre like "well. satan took her back"
> 
> ,,i hope someone got the trick i did with the names?? so what i did was i kept it vague throughout through the use of he/him/his more prominently than other variations, until the two short sentence came up. such is the case of tyki, primarily, in which i use he/him/his until the short sentence "it's reckless, it's messy and it milks tyki's cock to the core" and then from this sentence on tyki's name is mentioned in the scene.
> 
> with allen its the same case, in which while tyki is named i still use variations of he/him/his and other terms ("the boy") until the sentence "and then allen meets his release" and then, like tyki, i gradually sprinkle the use of his name throughout. i thought it would be nice to do this because it adds an element of depth to the scene imo?? in the sense that sex is an intimate thing and so for them to be named after peak points in the scene i think its a better way to evoke that sense of intimacy within sexual scenes without blatantly using hip thrust to cover up what i lack the skills to write, lmfao :^)
> 
> and in a sense, i think what i want to portray is the fact that there is no denial in the amount of intimacy between two people during sex. and it means a lot,,,it does and i think for tyki to be the noah of pleasure he would revel in the intimacy and the closeness, he would understand it better than allen, or anyone else. as far as it goes with lulubell, i dont see much in her noah memory of lust because shes a fucking cat most of the time, i mean what, is she in heat or something??
> 
> but i see my writing differently to how a reader would, seeing as i wrote it and i know the thought process behind each word so i thought you would like to know my reasoning behind the name thing :) aaaaA THis sounds a little pretentious actually....
> 
> weeps see you in the next part

**Author's Note:**

> :^) i am late to the party at finishing these but give me time...
> 
> i have three more to do!!! and i will probs post them this weekend bc these are easier to write than my yullen fic...which is totally making me blush with how they're taking things so if u like yullen pls check that shit out lmao bye


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